


midnight snack

by galpalaven



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: F/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Vampire Bites, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galpalaven/pseuds/galpalaven
Summary: Song really ought to know better by now than to let monsters too close - but with the new parasite in her brain, the thrill of danger is somehow much more tantalizing than it ever had been.Turns out a vampire's bite is far more exciting than even the worst erotic novels she'd read in her youth had made it out to be.
Relationships: Astarion/Female Charname (Baldur's Gate), Astarion/OC
Comments: 22
Kudos: 122





	midnight snack

She’d been trying to sleep when the feeling had snuck up on her. It was a creeping sensation, a crawling tickle of unease skittering up her spine. Something was off. Something was—

_Astarion._

Her mind flashes to the strange way he’d reacted to the boar they’d found earlier in the day, and suddenly it all makes sense. _A vampire,_ he’d said, so sure of himself.

Her ears pick up the slightest sound of movement somewhere nearby, and she decides to take a chance.

“... _Are_ you serious right now?”

Song hears a sharp intake of breath somewhere very close to her head and, despite the anxious feeling in her gut, the sound of it makes her lips twitch. Catching a vampire off guard isn’t something that one would think would be this easy, but apparently there are a few things she doesn’t know about vampires. The sound of shuffling fabric makes her stir, turning to look over her shoulder to reveal what she had already expected.

Astarion blinks down at her from where he’d been hunched over her sleeping body, shock clear on his handsome face.

“...shit,” is all he says.

It’s absurd enough that it makes her laugh, rolling over fully onto her back as she reaches up and rubs at her eyes. Maybe it’s just exhaustion making her delirious, and that’s why she’s not in any hurry to kill him—or maybe it’s just that her sense of self-preservation has never been as good as it should be. Her mothers would be disappointed in her if they could see her now, but that’s beside the point.

In any case, though she’s lying perfectly still, he doesn’t try to overpower her or kill her even now.

“How long have you been awake?” 

His voice makes her look up at him again, peeking between her fingers to find him still knelt beside the fire, watching her warily. She chuckles again, shrugging as she continues to rub sleep from her eyes.

“Not long,” she sighs, dropping her hands and stretching them over her head. She groans softly as a few of her vertebra pop with the movement. “I just had a… a _feeling_.”

She relaxes back into her sleeping roll, looking up at him with a half amused grin on her lips. “A feeling that turns out to be correct—you were really going to kill me in my sleep, huh.”

It’s not a question.

He panics, rising fully to his feet and backing away from her.

“No, no—I wasn’t. I swear, I just—I—I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed—well, blood.”

The firelight doesn’t reach his face from this angle, and all she can see are the reflections of firelight catching his eyes, making them glow ominously in the dark. Here, she can see him for what he really is: a vampire. A slave to sanguine hunger.

Perhaps it would frighten her more, had she not grown up surrounded by devils.

“I’m only surprised I didn’t catch on sooner,” she says, turning her gaze to the starry sky above. “We even found that boar you’d snacked on earlier.”

He makes a disgruntled sound in his throat. “It’s not what you think. I’m not some _monster_ ,” he says, and she can hear the desperation in his voice. “I feed on animals. Boar, deer, kobolds—anything I can get.”

“And what, pray tell, forced your hand tonight?” she asks, tilting her head. She rolls onto her side, propping her head up and draping her arm over her hip teasingly—something about this situation is almost funny and she can’t resist. “What made _me_ such a delicious, _irresistible_ temptation?”

His lips twitch, and he lets out a little huff of air that might be the beginning of a laugh. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

She smirks, but says nothing, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I’m… too slow right now to hunt properly. Too weak.”

“And, what, you thought I was the easiest target?” she asks flatly.

He makes a face. “Well... you _are_ the only one here without magic.”

“That’s not true. Lae’zel doesn’t have magic either.”

Astarion shoots her a look like she’s stupid. “Yes, but have you _seen_ Lae’zel? Plus, I’ve never drank from a _githyanki_. What if her blood is poison?”

Song snorts, shaking her head. She’s not really mad, for whatever reason—maybe it’s the connection they share from the tadpoles in their brains—but she does think it’s funny to watch him squirm. It’s a small pleasure in the midst of the hell they’re currently wading through, and she’s glad to keep enjoying the small things so long as her mind is still her own.

“How do you know _my_ blood isn’t poison?” she asks, watching him frown. “How do you know I don’t take a potion every night to make my blood poison to all things that stalk the night?”

He blinks.

“... _do_ you do that?”

She laughs, a little too loudly because Gale stirs in his sleep, mumbling something about five more minutes where he lays a few feet away. She sits up in response, sighing as she pops a few more of her vertebra in her neck. 

“Shall we take a little walk?”

Astarion just blinks at her again, before he tilts his head, shaking it a few times. “Hold on, you seem _far_ too calm about this whole thing, considering your view on people who have been turned into monsters against their will.”

Song just snorts at him, cocking her hip. “Are you really trying to tell me that becoming a vampire is somehow even remotely similar to turning into a giant, slimy tentacle creature with crazy mind-control powers?”

He smirks, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “Isn’t it?”

She blinks, still smiling a little. “No. No, it’s not.”

“How is it different?”

“I don’t know about you,” she says, backing up a few steps, “but I’m _quite_ vain. I like the way I look. Becoming a vampire, as far as I’m aware, doesn’t make you ugly as sin at the end of it.”

She turns to walk towards the forest, walking into the trees a bit before she looks back over her shoulder. He’s still standing where she left him, looking rather wary at this whole conversation. There was a certain thrill to this whole charade that she loved - a dance to talking her way through things that she loved. Right now, in this moment, she has him wrapped around her little finger, his full attention on her.

She doesn’t need any mind-control abilities to get people to do exactly as she wants—she’s a master of this art.

“Am I wrong?” she asks at length, shooting him a cheeky grin. “If I am, you must have been more beautiful than any creature on this plane or any other before you got bit.”

That makes him grin, and he finally starts to follow after her, though still at a bit of a distance. “Resorting to blatant flattery now, are you?”

She just shrugs, turning to watch where she’s going. His gaze burns like hot iron against her back as she walks ahead of him, leading them deeper into the forest. “I’m only stating facts.”

“Mm. I’m sure.”

Eventually, she’s satisfied that they’re far enough away that they won’t be overheard by accident, and she turns back to him, leaning against the trunk of a big oak tree. He stops, a good ten feet away, watching her. She can see his eyes glinting in the low light as he shifts on his feet warily.

“I’m waiting for the punchline,” he says, tilting his head. “You’re going to kill me now, aren’t you?”

“You seemed to be of the opinion that I wouldn’t stand a chance trying to kill you the other day,” she says flatly, reaching up to fiddle with one of the rings on her fingers. She keeps her eyes on her hand as she says, “I don’t know what you’re so scared of.”

“That was before I’d seen you fight the way I’ve been seeing you fight. You took on a whole horde of goblins like it was nothing—I’ve never seen someone so sharp with a bow,” he says, but he does take one hesitant step closer. “What’s your angle here? Why did you want to get me alone?”

“So dramatic,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. She rests her head against the tree behind her, smirking as she focuses on the stars visible through the canopy above. A tiny, new voice in the back of her mind tries to coax her out of this, but it’s easy to shrug it off. “I’m _trying_ to offer you a _solution_.”

He snorts. “I suppose shoving a stake through my ribs could be seen by some as a _solution_.”

...is he serious?

She looks back over at him, dumbfounded that he’s actually this stupid, blinking owlishly at her in the dark. She shakes her head a little and says, slowly, “No, _idiot_. I’m _offering_ you a _solution_.”

To emphasize her point, Song reaches up and loosens the neck of her shirt even more, pulling the collar open to reveal her throat. She tilts her head to the side and gestures vaguely at her exposed neck to really drive the point home.

His jaw goes slack, his brows draw together on his forehead. It makes her want to laugh for some reason, but all she can do is smirk and meet his gaze confidently in the low light of the night. In another life she might have thought better of this, but with the goddamn worm in her brain, each heartbeat is one moment closer to becoming something—grotesque and monstrous. Truly, anything would be a better fate than to become a hideous, writing mass of tentacles with mind-control powers.

Plus, if nothing else, he did seem to be very lethargic. If any of them wanted to survive this, they’d need each other. Anything she can do to make sure her party is in the best condition it can be, she _will_ do. 

“What’s the catch?” he asks finally, taking another, more confident step towards her. The way he moves reminds her of a big cat ready to pounce—like he’s stalking up on her through the undergrowth. His eyes catch the light in a way that even elf eyes don’t quite manage normally, glinting dangerously in the moonlight.

There’s a thrill in her stomach as he closes the distance between them, until she’s once again faced with their height difference. She watches him drag his gaze up and down the length of her, eyes darting around her features and lingering on her throat like he’s trying to decide where, precisely, he wants to bite first. Her prey instinct kicks in somewhere deep in her gut at the look in his eye, making her heart pound in her chest, but it’s not an unpleasant sensation. Heat coils in her gut instead of fear, a primal sense of anticipation coursing across her skin that makes her want to push in closer, to _feel_ those sharp teeth against her flesh.

“There’s no catch,” she breathes, and his eyes flick to hers at the raspiness of her voice. 

“There _must_ be a catch,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth, matching the molten garnet of his eyes. “Pretty creatures like yourself don’t just _offer_ themselves up to be devoured—not without wanting something in return.”

The word _devoured_ nearly pulls a sound from her throat, and she bites at her lower lip as she shrugs a little, trying to keep some semblance of control over her body. 

“All I want in return is you to be strong and to fight by my side until we solve our little dilemma. We have a better chance of success if you’re at your best—if that means you need blood, you can have it.” 

She tilts her chin again, baring her throat and smiling a little as his hand comes up to delicately brush the thin skin there. “Take what you need.”

He smiles a little, eyes on his hand as it trails downward, slipping just under the edge of her shirt collar. “Aren’t you worried I’ll just take it all?”

Song’s answering scoff is bitter, and she looks away at the forest as she says, “I feel like being drained by a vampire is a much less painful way to go than being turned into a mind flayer, so… no, I’m not worried.”

He hums, chuckling a little. “Of course. I can be as gentle as you like.”

Their gazes lock. His eyes dart back and forth between hers, considering, looking for any sign that she’s going to change her mind. 

“Dig in.”

He smiles, letting out a short little laugh with that low, smooth voice of his. “Don’t mind if I do,” he murmurs, and her eyes flutter shut as he turns his attention to the pale, thin skin on her neck.

The hand that had been slipping under her shirt slides up the side of her neck, fingers slipping through the short hair at her nape. His other hand comes up to hold the other side of her neck, tilting her head until she’s at the optimal position for him to feed comfortably. His grip is cool, hands strong as iron under their downright gentle touch. For a moment, as his breath washes over her skin, tickling her collarbone, nose skimming just beneath her jawline, she thinks it feels like a lover’s embrace. 

And then he strikes.

It’s like a shard of ice plunging into her neck—a sharp pain that fades into a strange, almost numb warmth. There’s a tugging sensation, and she can feel the vibrations as he makes a quiet noise of pleasure into her flesh. The way his mouth moves against her has her breath quickening, catching in her throat as he sucks at her neck. 

She doesn’t realize she’s reaching for him until she feels him sigh into her neck, and then she becomes aware that her hands are clutching at his waist, pulling him closer. His tongue laves over the wound in her neck and she squirms in his grasp, nails digging into his shirt as he bends his knee, sliding his thigh between her legs to steady her against the tree.

The unexpected pressure _does_ pull a sound from her throat this time, and her own voice is muffled to her ears as she gasps, a quiet little, “ _Ah, gods—_ ” that the wind carries away into the night.

He hums against her in response, and she feels him redouble his efforts against her neck, pressing his whole body up against her as he drinks—and that’s when she starts to feel it.

She’s going to faint.

“Astarion,” she tries, but her voice is too quiet, and he doesn’t seem to hear.

The first twinge of panic pricks at the edges of her consciousness. She tries to move and his hands tighten on her neck.

“ _Astarion, that’s enough_ — _I’m dizzy_ ,” Song gasps, tapping desperately at his sides. For a heartstopping moment, she thinks he’s not going to stop, that he’s really going to drain her, and she’s not sure what to feel facing her own mortality quite like this…

...but then he stops, breaking away with a shuttering gasp.

“ _Ah,”_ he says, and his voice is thick with the liquid still in his throat. He doesn’t move away, swallowing thickly, still bent with his face near her throat, touch turning back into something gentle and intimate. Song relaxes a little as he continues to nuzzle against her throat, dragging his lips against the skin there like he’s going to kiss her. “Of course. Forgive me, my dear, I was merely—caught up in the moment.”

The panic ebbs away with all the gentleness of a wave returning to the sea as Astarion presses a soft, languid kiss against the side of her neck, right over the bite. 

It’s an apology, whispered in a language older than any of the languages either of them speak, and she laughs a little bit, reaching up to touch the hand he has still resting on the side of her neck. He still has her pinned to the tree, and she’s half glad for it, certain that the moment he steps away her knees will give way and she’ll collapse to forest floor at his feet. 

“I had forgotten,” he says after another few moments, letting her return to herself in a way that’s strangely caring, coming from him, “how sweet blood given freely can be.”

Song smirks, tilting her head towards him, brushing her smile against his ear. “Have you had many willing young maidens at your mercy?”

That makes him laugh, snorting, burying his face in her shoulder. He seems happier than he had minutes earlier—lighter, more carefree. She can feel him shake his head, and then he finally pulls back, smirking with mirth.

“I can tell you with certainty I have never had anyone like you willingly surrendering their blood to me,” he says dryly. “In fact, I believe I’m normally trying to kill people like you.”

She scoffs. “That’s a bit rude, don’t you think? After everything I’ve done for you, you’d have still killed me?”

“You are truly incredible,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t get a read on you—one moment, you’re a thieving scoundrel with a silvertongue slick enough to talk a devil into selling his own soul, and the next…”

He trails off, shaking his head, but the look in his eyes is fond and full of affection.

“The next, I’m offering myself up to vampires like the heroine of a bad erotica novel?” she says, raising an eyebrow as she does, squeezing her thighs around his leg to remind him of the position they’re in.

“Precisely.”

She smooths her thumb across his knuckles as fatigue begins to set in from their encounter. She feels like she could sleep for a week if their situation allowed it. 

“I’ll admit, it’s fun being an enigma.”

He laughs, and finally starts to untangle himself, moving away slowly to give her the chance to steady herself. She was right about her suspicion that her knees would be weak—without him supporting her, she finds herself leaning heavily against the oak at her back, darkness playing around the edges of her vision like smoke.

“Are you alright?”

She hums, closing her eyes against the rushing sensation in her ears. “Fine. Just a bit— _woozy_.”

“Shall I help you back to your bedroll?”

Song scoffs softly, opening her eyes again despite way the world seems to be tilting just so to find him with his arms outstretched, hands ready to catch her if she were to start falling. Though her pride is grumbling at her in the back of her mind, the concern on his face is sweet, and she reaches out, sliding her hands into his.

“It’s the least you could do,” she says, groaning a little as she pushes away from the tree and the forest floor seems to _rear_ beneath her. “Next time, try not to take quite so much, hmm?”

He chuckles as she leans into him, burying her face in his ruffly shirt for a moment. “Is there going to be a next time?”

She shrugs as they start to make their way back to camp. “If you want. Maybe next time I’ll bring some bread to snack on afterwards.”

That makes him laugh again, and she smiles. She likes it when he laughs.

“You really are very wobbly after that, aren’t you?” he comments as they finally come to the edge of camp, just as he has to catch her when she stumbles on an exposed tree root.

She laughs a little, shaking her head. “There _was_ a brief moment I thought you were going to drain me completely, actually. You took quite a bit of blood.”

“Mm. I am sorry about that, my dear. I suppose I’m just not used to _not_ killing people when I bite.”

He helps her over to her bedroll, kneeling with her so that she can collapse heavily on the pile of blankets and furs. She sighs, blissful at finally being horizontal, as she says, “Well. Try to remember that I’m a fair bit smaller than your average boar next time.”

Astarion laughs one more time, brushing the back of his knuckles once against her cheek before the sound of rustling fabric meets her ears. When she opens her eyes to look up at him again, he’s standing over her, smirking and wiping at the corner of his mouth with one delicate finger. 

“I will. For now, though, my dear—though you were _intoxicating_ —I need something a bit more filling. If you’ll excuse me…”

She snorts. “Go. Find yourself a bear or something. Have fun.”

“Oh, I will,” he says, as he starts to stalk back towards the forest. She watches him go for a moment, too tired to do much else, only to watch him stop at the edge of the trees, glancing back over his shoulder. “Oh, and Song?”

“Mm?”

“This was a gift. I won’t soon forget it. Thank you.”

She smiles, closing her eyes as sleep starts to drag her under. “Anytime,” she sighs, lazily waving a hand towards him as she turns her head back towards the sky. “Have a good hunt.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

The last thing she hears before sleep claims her is the sound of him laughing to himself, and then the rustling of leaves before all is still again, and she’s left with the sound of her sleeping teammates and the quiet crackle of the campfire to aid her on her way.

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to my new hyperfixation please enjoy your stay lol
> 
> also, fun note: my oc is an elf/half-elf (haven't decided yet lol) who was raised by her adoptive mothers - a pair of tieflings who are archaeologists/historians. she grew up treasure hunting in ruins and it's through that that she learned all her sneaky, thieving rogue skills


End file.
